


Marinette Makes You Happy

by insufferableThespian



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Conflict, F/M, Misunderstandings, Rejection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-02 21:22:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13326615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insufferableThespian/pseuds/insufferableThespian
Summary: You’d been so happy. Even if she wasn’t the apple of your eye, she was beauty. Beauty in a way you couldn’t describe, and for now, you were content. Maybe because you were lonely, desperate, starved of contact that wasn’t your own. Marinette made you happy.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment if you can! I really want to improve my writing and feedback would really help! This is my first serious piece, so I want it to be the best it can be.

You’d been so _happy_. Even if she wasn’t the apple of your eye, she was beauty. Beauty in a way you couldn’t describe, and for now, you were content. Maybe because you were lonely, desperate, starved of contact that wasn’t your own. Marinette made you _happy_ , you thought. You wanted to scream it at the top of your lungs, telling every soul in the world about her. It was a good feeling, one you never thought would stop. Like a candle never to go out. 

She had asked you. More of an accident than with conviction, but once a sentence is said there is no taking it back. No ways to snatch it out of the air before it is heard. In a second, she looked as if she may cry, fumbling backwards and mentally clawing at her statement. _I think I'm in **love** with you._ You think she was panicking. You had told her to calm down, and that she hadn't creeped you out. She couldn't stop apologizing at the blush on your face. But it was fine, it really was. It was charming, and sweet, and made your heart flutter more than you thought it would.

Marinette made you _happy_.

When Ladybug came, parole as always, you couldn’t stop the smile on your face. Oh, the things you wanted to tell her, about the happiness drowning your brain. You were swimming in rapture, unable to keep your black-clad hands still. It seemed Ladybug was filled with the same floaty feeling.

Marinette made you _happy_.

“Chat, oh my god, you don’t know how excited I am right now.”

“Oh, believe me, Bugaboo, I think we’re high on the same feeling.”

Ladybug laughed, lips carved out of marble. “I met someone. Well, I knew him before, but we’re dating now. It’s so exciting. Ah, I can’t stop thinking about it!”

The sound around you had faded away, a rush of endorphins flooding out of your body, leaving your chest empty. You nearly had to hold a hand out to support yourself against the chimney, knees turning to jell-o.  

“I’m happy for you.” You lied.

Marinette made you _happy_.

Until she didn’t. To no fault of her own. She wasn’t enough to keep your heart from falling to pieces. Not when the love of your life was suddenly out of reach. Sure, you couldn’t have your lady anyways, you knew that, but knowing that she was no longer tangible was salt on a festering wound in your heart. How could she be so _happy_ while you were so sad?

“Who woulda thought a girl like me would have any chance with a guy like him, eh Chaton?” The wind was cold as she spoke, but not as chilling as her voice. She looked off into the night with cerulean eyes, scanning the tops of houses and homes.

“I would’ve, I guess, Ladybug.” You spoke late, bitter and tight. You didn’t have it in you to call her any of the plethora of names you kept on hand. You couldn’t call her your lady, she wasn’t _yours_. Ladybug wasn’t yours, you had to accept that.

“Sorry, I’m just really excited about it. I’ve never really dated before, this is my first serious relationship.” Her face turned to yours, goofy smile still glued to her face. Something inside you made you want to rip it off. Primal. You wanted to tell her it was fine, that you were so _happy_ for her. But you feared that if you saw that pink smile one more time you might actually hurt her.

"Yeah. Sounds great. I'm sure he's wonderful." Ladybug's smile fell then, reading the pain in your voice. "So, so happy for you."

"Is there something wrong with that?"

"Is there?"

Her frown turned sour, arms finding themselves across her chest. You wanted to stop saying words, to stop being so rude to someone so lovely and innocent. She hadn't done anything wrong, she wasn't _your_ lady. You had no reason to be so upset, so why had you been?

"I thought you'd be happy for me.." She mumbled, legs dangling over the edge of the roof as she sat next to you. Something about the way she said it made your blood boil. Made you feel so frustrated, so ignored, wanting to scream how you felt. 

Marinette made you  _happy_.

"Well you thought wrong, Ladybug. I'm not happy. I'm glad that you are, but I'm not." You retorted, sick and tired of the feeling in your chest. You thought being honest would relieve your pain; it _didn't_. Instead, you stood.

"What's gotten into you?! Why can't you just.. just support me? Are we not friends? Was I wrong about that, too?" She stood with you, crossed arms moving to hug her own waist. Her expression burned your eyes, burying the painful feeling deeper. It spread from your chest to your torso, and crept up your neck. You had to leave.

“Don't just stand there. _Say something!"_

You hadn’t looked back as you walked off the roof, escaping the scene like a coward. A cat running from a bug.

_“Chat? Chat! Come back!”_

But you didn’t. You don’t. You can’t. As you’re running along the tile of someone’s roof, you can’t. Maybe you’re overreacting, but knowing that doesn’t help ease the pain keeping you from breathing. The pain that spans your entire being, physical and spiritual. The pain that leaves your throat dry as you grasp at the air around you, panting and wheezing. And eventually, you collapse. Hands on the smooth rock as your chest heaves. Water slips down your cheeks and drips onto your fingers, starting slow and cascading into a steady stream of tears. Curling in on yourself, you look up at the dimly lit sky.

You can’t look at it long, though. Your eyes burn too much. Instead, you bury your face into the fabric of your knees, finally letting yourself cry. Harder than you probably should over a stupid girl you aren’t dating. Over a petty fight with a friend. You have a girlfriend. You have Marinette, the pretty klutz in your grade. She’s kind, and sweet, and everything that you wanted. Marinette makes you  _happy,_ happier than you thought you could be. She isn't too intense, and she isn't too boring. She's the perfect middle where you feel like you can relax. 

Yet all you can do is cry, wishing you had been better than you were. Wishing you hadn't decided to take it out on Ladybug when you should have just smiled. It wasn't your place to be angry, to cry and yell about someone who didn't belong to you. To anyone. A shiver runs down your spine.

You can feel it crawling, straight from the ground and up your back. You’re paralyzed, unable to shake it off. When it reaches the base of your head, it seeps into your skull, like a parasite chewing at your skin. Something tells you to run, to claw it out, save yourself. But there’s something else. Something deeper, that keeps you grounded. Something easing your pain, your tears, replacing them with malice.

_“Hello, Chat Noir, I am Hawk Moth.”_


	2. Chapter Two

It’s a whisper, deep in the recesses of your mind. Maybe it’s coming from inside you, you cannot be sure. A voice more familiar than anything else and yet you could _swear_ that you’ve never heard it before. As familiar as a father’s word, yet as foreign as his love. Something about it makes you calmer. As if you were finally being heard, even if you were not the one speaking. 

“ _Leave me alone._ ” Is all you can muster, tears turning cold against the heat of your skin. “I’m not your puppet.” You speak in a malicious tone, although you aren’t sure who it is directed at. If at the voice, or Ladybug herself, miles behind you on a rooftop alone.

“I mean you no harm, _if_ I did you would have no way to refuse.” Like a poison, the voice crept through your veins, you could almost see it. Black and purple, tall and strong. So like yet unlike yourself. “I have only come to talk. Make a bargain, of sorts. To harm to you, that is assured.”

There’s something selfish that creeps towards your tongue, perhaps not even you. As if you were possessed, yet still thinking your own thoughts. They _have_  to be yours. You feel yourself, not controlled or stilled. But instead, possessed by a curiosity to continue, to know, to hear what the man had to say. As if it could better you, how you felt, how you had been treated.

_**Perhaps cats are far too curious.** _

“What is it?” You are unsteady, desperate for more and reluctant to continue. 

“I have been waiting for awhile,” It starts. _He_  starts, “Watching, seeing how you work. How you tick. If I could trust you.” As if trust is in his hands, and not yours. “I believe you are not reaching your full potential, Chat Noir. With Ladybug saving the day while she makes you do all the work. A good team, you are not. You _know_ that, don’t you?”

A nerve was struck, cat ears twitching as if they were real. How had you been so blind? Letting her walk all over you time and time again. Put yourself in danger time and time again for a woman who would never do the same for you. How had you followed along with whatever she wanted, always at the expense of yourself? You don't even _know who she is._

“She gets all the glory, it’s _all_ about her. She didn’t even give you a chance to talk, about how you feel. When all you have ever done is follow her every beck and call. Does anybody even know who you are? Has there ever been a person to believe in Chat Noir? Does anyone call out for him in times of peril?”

You don’t know when your hands had balled into fists, claws digging into leather. The tears had vanished, replaced only with a rage set in deeper than any wound could ever reach. Ladybug never gave you anything, even when you’d given your life. You find your voice lost, buried so far down it can’t be recovered. All you can do is nod.

“I ask nothing of you. Nothing to give up, nothing to lose. Your Miraculous is better kept in your own hands, as you are the one who commands it. All I need is your aid. Your partner ship. Your hand in ridding Paris of the lying, deceiving woman perusing the streets. Get me Ladybug’s Miraculous. Can you do that for me? For us, _Adrien_?”

Anger spread into every inch of flesh. Every finger, every bone. “I can. I _will_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's so short! I was having trouble writing in bulk this time.

**Author's Note:**

> I have plans for this story, but if I never get to finish it, at least this piece is cohesive.


End file.
